


Ascendance

by RavioliHailstorm



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Bugs & Insects, Death, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Guards, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Princes & Princesses, Requited Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, Starvation, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29991651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavioliHailstorm/pseuds/RavioliHailstorm
Summary: When famine decimates the Kingdom of Flor, impoverished farm worker Dream seeks a new career as a guard for the prestigious royal family's sole heir. The future king, Prince George, aspires to mend the kingdom's rampant social inequalities. Both eager to prove themselves, the unlikely duo attempts to bridge gaps between the kingdom's heavily divided communities.A story about the abuse of power, addressing prejudice, overcoming stereotypes, a forbidden romance, and viewing the world from new perspectives.Even though the Dream Team have stated they are comfortable with fanfiction, I'm happy to take this story down if they request. I do not mind if the Dream Team finds this. :) Please enjoy!
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 4





	1. Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains romance and mild nsfw, but it will not contain smut. Content warnings will appear in the notes of chapters which contain other mature themes. Reader discretion is advised.

~Dream, farm worker of Orlan~

Apocalypse arrived in the Kingdom of Flor on a bright, sunny afternoon at the end of summer. Agricultural harvests waned, but crops still growing for autumn were as vital to the kingdom economy as those harvested during summer. No one in my community of Orlan received any warning before our worst nightmare stole everything.

The Florean climate was usually fair. Warm summers, mild winters, and a steady river flowing through the kingdom's lush territory were ideal for cultivating a variety of crops. Behind my family’s house lay a massive plot of land owned by one of many landlords from the Teja community. My neighborhood in particular specialized in barley, oats, and wheat; expanses of grain fields grew across the landscape, their waving stalks forming a mirage against the horizon. Agriculture formed the foundation of the kingdom’s economy, the livelihood of the community of Orlan, and the only reliable source of income for my family.

With a woven fiber basket tucked under one arm, I emerged from my family’s two-room adobe house to perform a farm worker’s daily inspection of his crop. My bare feet stirred dust from the ground; caked layers of dirt and mud concealed the calloused pale skin beneath. However, as I approached the fields, billowing movement on the horizon distracted my eyes. Squinting, I frowned; in the distance, hundreds of meters above the ground, a large dust-colored cloud approached rapidly from the otherwise clear skies.

Other farm workers inspecting and harvesting grains from the field lifted their heads as well, some shielding their eyes against the sun’s rays to peer at the dust-colored cloud high above our heads. Within seconds, the cloud maneuvered, unnaturally for a non-living entity.

My heart dropped as the cloud blotted out the sun, thrusting the fields into an ominous shade. This was no weather event. Rare, but more destructive than any other natural disaster, the dense swarm above our heads were…

“Locusts!”

Instinctively I ducked my head as human screams ripped through the calm breeze. Other residents of the crowded Orlanian neighborhood froze, then most clutched their woven fiber baskets close to their chests before diving for cover. Rushing feet smashed through grain stalks, filling the air with shivering rattles as farm workers evacuated the fields, surrendering our hard work to the incoming cloud.

The thought of losing the entire second half of the year's harvest pushed me into action. Efforts to save more than a tiny fraction of the crops would be futile, but I did not wish to do nothing. Grabbing every stalk I could fit into one hand as I carried the woven fiber basket in the other, I glanced from the barley stalks to the sky. My heart pounded with fear and exhilaration, but I would avoid leaving until the last possible second.

Millions of tiny wings droned above my head, blocking out all other noises. Downward winds buffeted my exposed skin and hair as I shucked grain stalks, cursing when dozens of pods split from the rough treatment and spilled their precious seeds upon the dirt below.

Faintly I heard my younger sister Sandy race onto our adobe house’s rickety back porch; I glanced back to see her teal eyes widening with horror as they fixed upon the incoming apocalypse. “What are those things?” Her shriek betrayed fright of the insects themselves, rather than of the destruction they would cause.

Locusts posed no direct threat to humans; they did not bite, nor did they carry disease. Instead, their menace lay in their insatiable appetites. The cloud, tens of millions of insects strong, would satisfy their voracious hunger by consuming leaves and stems of trees, grass, vegetable plants, and grain stalks.

“They won’t hurt you,” I assured. Desperately I called for her assistance, “Help me pick barley until they land!”

Too stunned to suggest a different idea, my sister leapt off the back porch to join my side. Her arm strength was lesser than mine, but her efforts were no less determined as we stripped the barley stalks together.

Finally, from their flight hundreds of meters in the air, the locust swarm fixed our agricultural community’s crops in their sights. The cloud wavered, then dived. In one dreadful moment, the cloud of tenacious creatures descended upon the kingdom’s farmlands in a torrent of living rain.

“They’re coming down!” With a hoarse cry, I urged my sister inside while scooping clumps of frantically harvested barley into the woven basket. “Go inside and help Mom protect the house!”

Together, my younger sister and I clambered into the house’s back doorway. Across the neighborhood, other families like ours gathered their loved ones, accepted their fates, and resigned to defend whatever stores of food they kept in their houses before the swarm. When my sister and I dashed inside, our single mother had already dragged pots, boxes, packages, and containers full of food into our kitchen’s minuscule storage closet.

Few Orlanian houses were wealthy enough to own windows or doors; as the sky outside became dense with swooping locusts, my mother dashed into the bedroom. She returned with a bundle of blankets, then strung them with twine across the open windows of the house. Assisting her efforts, my younger sister Sandy closed the thin fabric curtains which acted as makeshift doors.

Three pairs of widened eyes watched from across the main living area, which was devoid of furniture except for a well-worn rug, a rounded stone table, and a single wooden chair in the corner. Within seconds, the first locusts began filtering into the house through the chimney, the windows, and around the door curtains. Forming a semi-circle in front of the storage closet, my small family turned outwards and assumed defensive positions as the invaders swelled in numbers.

Endless waves of hungry locusts cloaked the grain fields; I heard distant cries of panicked livestock as the insects permeated every square meter of outdoor space. The locusts were not only here in our house, in our community; they were everywhere, attacking the entire kingdom.

Our faces twisted into grimaces, lips pressing tightly together, as disoriented, zooming insects collided with the walls, clung to the ceiling, and crawled along the dusty floor. My family shrieked in our throats as we defended our food stores from the invaders. When locusts scampered close, we stomped them with bare feet, creating liquidy splats upon the floor. When locusts attempted to fly above our heads, we extended our hands to clap them dead in midair. Vibrating wings and millions of tiny, gnashing mouth parts overwhelmed our hearing. The scent of crushed insects overwhelmed us, causing us to gag. Ruptured exoskeletons squished in our hands, their life fluids seeping through our fingers and dripping onto our curled bodies. Hundreds more living bugs filtered inside, creeping along our clothes and exposed skin. Some locusts even dared to investigate the holes of our ears and nostrils before human fingers ripped them away.

Hell on Earth lasted for hours, until some undetectable signal passed through the locust swarm. In extraordinary unity, the insects filtered from the house, leaving their deceased relatives behind, then rose from the hopelessly destroyed crops. Climbing thermals back to a decent altitude, the locust swarm slowly departed from the Florean Kingdom’s blue skies to continue their torment in new feeding grounds elsewhere.

Tears streaked my family’s faces. Our cheeks ached from the grimaces we wore. Swallowing hard, I tossed one more glance back at the storage closet containing grains, vegetables, and the basket of barley stalks harvested before the swarm’s arrival. Although the quantity of food filled the entire closet, the supply suddenly appeared meager. Starvation loomed as an ominous certainty in our future, like an unrelenting predator chasing a herd of prey until the poor animals could no longer flee from its pursuit.

Slouching with exhaustion, my family stumbled on weak legs to the house’s back entrance. My mother removed the blankets covering the window, while my younger sister Sandy slid open the door curtain. Dispersing ourselves upon the rickety back porch outside, we discovered the remnants of our community’s grain fields. Our breaths hitched.

Absolute devastation. Not a single stalk remained uneaten. Where I remembered spilling barley seeds in my hasty harvest, tiny black insect droppings dotted the dirt.

Screams and helpless cries split the air as other Orlanian farm workers dashed from their homes to observe the mess before us. Muffled sobs resonated throughout the neighborhood; even fishermen, butchers, bakers, and livestock hands cried with sympathy for our agricultural community’s loss.

My mother’s composure broke first. Collapsing onto her knees, she wept pitifully into both hands. Despite our own wordless grief, my sister and I sprang to her side. Rubbing our mother’s narrow shoulders to comfort her, my sister and I exchanged a fearful glance. The woman’s desolation was understandable; when a previous locust swarm devastated an entire season’s harvest during her youth, half of her family and childhood friends perished from starvation during the resulting kingdom-wide famine.

Human minds responded strangely to situations in which they could foresee tangible death in their futures. Across the community of Orlan, frightened farm workers, fishermen, butchers, and land owners collectively asked the perilous question: “now what?”

Inevitably, the population sprung into a frenzy whose fervor rivaled the locust swarm’s chaos. Miserable, bedraggled residents streaked from their houses in search of help. Despite our innocent intentions, fear could easily escalate a sincere plea into a violent plunder. In the momentous turmoil, my family had to act quickly.

“I can head to the market.” My younger sister Sandy hurried back into the house. Rummaging through the storage closet on her toes, she pulled a green-painted ceramic jar from a wooden rack fixed into the wall, then returned to present its contents. Lifting the lid, she tilted the jar so the sunlight illuminated a stash of gold coins clinking in a thin layer on the jar’s bottom. “I’ll see what this can buy us.”

“Good idea, honey,” our mother complimented. The woman sat upon the splintered wooden porch, leaning against the outside wall of the house, supporting her daughter’s initiative despite the invisible weight on her shoulders. “Buy grains first. We can make bread or rolled oats; hopefully those will last at least until Orlan can grow more vegetables.”

“Wait.” Staring at the paltry stash of money, I hesitated. “If you go to the market now, Sandy, you’ll get trampled. Half the population of Orlan will go there, hoping to sell their stashes of food and buy whatever products we can’t produce ourselves. Prices will explode by the end of the day. For all we know, someone could even rob us on the way to the marketplace and we would lose our savings for nothing!”

“Do you have a better idea?” My mother’s question was neither challenging nor condescending, but rather defeated. “If we buy grains, we can stretch them. Make them last, and avoid expending too much energy in the fields.”

“I do have an idea,” I affirmed. Calculating the distance in my head to trek from our home in Orlan to the wealthy community of Teja near the kingdom’s castle, I announced to my mother and sister, “I’ll meet with Sapnap.”

Initially, my mother’s eyes widened with surprise at the mention of my childhood friend. Cautiously she asked, “You think he would help us?”  
“I know he would,” I confirmed, gaining certainty in my plan. Although I was not sure what ‘help’ from Sapnap would entail, I could decide along the lengthy walk from Orlan to Teja.

Despite my confidence, my mother’s eyes remained worried. Sandy’s expression became shadowed, too. With my physical strength, height advantage, and knife-wielding skills, I acted as the family’s only guard against thieves, law enforcement, and currently, the mob forming beyond our house’s adobe walls. Ultimately, my mother nodded with understanding. Standing from the wooden porch to clutch my younger sister closer to herself, she promised, “Sandy and I will wait here for you. We’ll guard the food and money.”

“Perfect.” Approaching for quick hugs, my feet itching to begin the journey, I wished them luck. “If anyone comes in, give them food. Don’t be stupid.”  
“We can regrow food, but we can’t regrow the dead,” my mother agreed.

“Funny you say that when the only stupid one here is you, Dream.” Sandy regained a glint of humor in her eyes as she teased me. Returning her smirk, I rolled my eyes.

A hurried bath in one of Orlan’s communal, sheltered bathing pools cleaned my body of the stench of crushed locusts. My family could not afford clothing, so I chose the most presentable set of sewn-together rags from the bedroom chest for my journey.

“Farewell, my son.” Arming herself and Sandy with stone kitchen knives from our house’s minuscule kitchen, my mother waved hopefully to me.  
Shaken but genial, my younger sister added, “Bye, Dream!”

“I’ll return soon. Stay safe!” Gathering a small canteen of water and my own stone knife for emergency self-defense, I dashed through the house’s front doorway. Entering the neighborhood’s bustling streets, I whispered a final goodbye to my mother and sister under my breath, “I love you both.”

The spontaneous journey to Sapnap’s house in the Teja community required several hours of traveling across the kingdom, through hostile communities. My head pounded from exhaustion and stress. My fingers numbed as they maintained a sure grip on my stone knife and water canteen. My feet carried me along a route I trekked many days in my youth, on a worn dirt path out of Orlan. Gradually, the late afternoon sun sank, then perished below the horizon, forcing me to acknowledge the quest would last into the night.

Inhaling crisp night air, I hastened my pace as the dirt path ahead deviated from Orlan’s network of cramped houses and grimy streets. The darkened trail veered beside devastated grain fields, chewed vegetable crops, and empty livestock arenas. My jaw tensed, my eyes adjusted to the gloom, and my stomach complained with growing hunger. Undeterred, however, I formed a plan. Once I was determined, I was unstoppable.


	2. Job Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Please keep in mind, this story will contain graphic depictions of mature themes, most notably depictions of prejudice and death. Reader discretion is advised.**

~Dream, farm worker of Orlan~

Five communities populated the Kingdom of Flor, but they did not contain equal portions of the population. Half of the Florean Kingdom’s residents dwelled in Orlan, where a Tejan landlord supervised and collected property taxes from each neighborhood. My neighborhood’s landlord, Sir Armstrong, was also the father of my childhood friend Sapnap.

In the lush, quiet hills at the base of the Yukay Mountains, Teja exclusively housed nobles, politicians, and other political allies of the royal family. The prestigious community’s geography and close relationship to kingdom law enforcement prevented surprise influxes of residents of other communities. As I hiked through Teja, I glanced behind myself occasionally for signs of followers, but I walked the lamp-lit streets alone.

Although the night air kept me from overheating, my breathing became labored as memory guided me along cobblestone streets past roped-off parks, empty carriages, sculpted hedges, and white-painted two-story wooden homes. Resisting the urge to sniff at the community’s gaudy displays of material wealth, I adhered to the darkness away from lamp-lit pathways. My water canteen dangled from one numb hand, empty. My other hand’s clutch on its stone knife had relaxed, but did not release the weapon.

Panting breaths, insect chirps, and rustling leaves filled the nighttime air as my journey neared its end. On foot, taking the long route from Orlan to Teja proved less risky than accompanying the panicked Orlanian civilians who permeated the business and market communities of Mingham and Hassee.

Within hours of losing their agriculture, I imagined the decisions my Orlanian neighbors might have made. Did some enter the kingdom's central Hassean marketplace in search of food to purchase? In response, shopkeepers would have raised their prices to profit off the buyers' panic. Other Orlanian residents at home must have gathered their belongings to search for new lands outside the Florean Kingdom. Another portion of Orlan’s population may have hunkered down, woozy with disbelief as they faced the destruction of their livelihoods outside. Finally, other Orlanians like me travelled to other communities in search of food and financial assistance. Most pleas for help from the Mingham community would lead to rejection, for its merchants, traders, and businesspeople would have boarded their windows and doors in anticipation of the crowds’ arrival.

Sighing heavily as I continued through winding Tejan streets, I fought the guilt consuming me. I wished my pursuit for assistance from Sapanp could benefit more people than my family alone. From a young age, I received comments remarking I was “capable” for an Orlanian, but my capability was essential. Years ago, my father disappeared without a trace; in his absence, the responsibilities of paying taxes and tending to the farm split between my mother and me. With an ominous shiver, I reminded myself I now did the same thing my father did before his vanishing: traveling away from home in search of help.

My family required money for food, taxes, and education for my younger sister Sandy. Sapnap would gladly donate money to support his childhood friend, but while a donation would be beneficial now, the possibility of famine meant long-term issues which a single donation would not solve. Instead, I planned to request a job opportunity. Employment would provide steady income, and the noble status of Sapnap’s family would allow access to a larger pool of opportunities than I could enter without a recommendation.

A hill loomed on the horizon, where two oil lamps betrayed the single, massive house perched upon it: the Armstrong residence. Situated between two fully-grown willow trees against a backdrop of wild spruce forest, the esteemed house occupied a sizable plot of land overlooking the valley below. Although darkness cloaked most of the house beyond the reach of the flickering oil lamps on both sides of the front door, an image of the building displayed in my mind: three stories, a cobblestone archway, a shed for the servants’ quarters, and an air of regality rivaling the royal castle. If I had not visited this location many times in my youth, I would have trembled with intimidation at its monstrous presence.

Approaching the house’s front door, my eyes fixed upon the narrow brick pathway snaking from the road to the front porch. Carefully I scanned each step for booby traps, a common defense mechanism for Tejan houses. Only when I looked closely at the waving grasses could I discern the hidden outlines of patiently waiting metal jaws: bear traps, intended to catch human trespassers.

Skirting the final bear trap laying in wait at the base of the front porch’s steps, I climbed to reach the door. Initially I hesitated, worrying about my appearance. Like most Orlanian families, mine could not afford clothes; instead, talented residents of our community sewed outfits from rags. However, glancing down at my rags would impede my confidence in the possibility of negotiation. Ironically, financial help was most attainable when one dressed in clothing which implied they did not need any financial help whatsoever.

Lifting a fist, I knocked on the polished spruce door in a codified series of sharp raps, two heavy knocks midway up the door, then a vertical strip of five lighter knocks traveling upwards. Visually, the locations I knocked upon the wood formed the vague shape of human male reproductive anatomy. After the knocks, I called my childhood friend’s name, “Sapnap! It's Dream!”

First, I heard nothing. Then, from inside the house, rapid footsteps thumped in my direction. Hooking my stone knife and water canteen into my twine belt, I felt my heart thrum with nervous excitement to witness my best friend for the first time in months.

Near the front door, dull orange light spilled from the glass window as someone parted a lacy white curtain to peek out. I met the person’s gaze; their shaded eyes widened and thick eyebrows lifted with surprise. Immediately they unlocked the front door from the inside, then pulled it open.

“Dream, you’re okay!” Slightly shorter than me but no less physically powerful, my childhood friend Sapnap launched himself toward me. We embraced. I clutched his shoulder blades, burying my face into his neatly brushed hair as he rested his chin upon my shoulder. I tried to ignore how gingerly he held me because of the scratchiness of my rags, but the admiration in his sparkling blue eyes did not falter when he receded from the hug. My friend rambled in a low voice, “I saw weird clouds in the valley for hours! What were they?”

“Locusts,” I sighed heavily. “They ate our neighborhood’s barley crops. They ate everything.”

Sapnap swallowed, unsure of how to respond until he muttered empathetically, “I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.” Glancing over one shoulder at the empty living area behind him, he ushered, “Here, come inside.” Stepping back to allow my entry, Sapnap alerted the house, “Visitor!”

While my friend closed the front door, I cautiously shuffled into the house, purposely taking short, controlled steps and intertwining my fingers before my waist to appear less threatening when the rest of the family inevitably noticed my presence. Standing before the expansive living and dining areas, I could not suppress the astonished parting of my lips at the house’s wealth.

A spacious interior reflected the house's rich exterior: decorated spruce doors, glass windows, closets upon every wall, a massive kitchen, carved wooden tables with tablecloths, high ceilings, framed oil paintings hung upon white walls, ornate bookshelves, and meticulously dusted furniture. I had never stepped foot in the kingdom’s castle, so to me, this appeared the life of royalty.

“Who’s visiting?” When heavy, booted footsteps and an aggressively deep voice indicated the arrival of Sapnap’s father, Sir Armstrong, I faced the floor with downturned eyes to express submission.

“He’s with me,” Sapnap explained, protectively stepping in front of me. “It’s Dream. You remember him, right?”

“Your ragged little beggar friend is back?” Sapnap’s father raised a disapproving eyebrow. “Pity. I thought you had grown apart.”

“We don’t meet much anymore, but yes, we’re still friends.”

“Why does he have a knife?” Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Sir Armstrong gestured to where the weapon dangled from my twine belt. “He’s got a hungry look to him, like those scrawny peasants pillaging the rest of the kingdom.”

“For self-defense, probably. Right, Dream?”

Pursing my lips, I nodded.

Tension settled over the house. More footsteps echoed down the house’s long hallway as my friend’s sisters and mother hurried into the main living area to investigate the conversation.

“Hi, Dream!” Sapnap’s younger sister, Liliana, recognized me.

“Good evening, Miss Armstrong,” I responded deferentially, keeping my gaze fixed upon the festive carpets decorating the floors.

“He’s not wearing any shoes!” Sapnap’s mother Lady Armstrong noticed, her voice shrill with disdain. “He’ll track dirt all over the house!”

“He’ll be careful,” Sapnap reassured sheepishly. Straightening his back, his voice was tight as he glanced at me. “Dream hasn’t visited us in a year. I’m sure he had a reason for coming tonight.”

“His reason had better be good,” Sir Armstrong growled. “Or I’ll evict his family from their damn cockroach-infested house.” Permitting me to speak, he demanded, “Tell us why you’re here, Orlanian.”

“Thank you for tolerating my presence, Sir Armstrong,” I began, heart pounding with veiled fear as his hostile presence approached. Sapnap slid to my side, exposing me to his father so I could defend, “I apologize for disturbing your family so late at night.” Fully aware of the entire family of five watching me with mixed curiosity and caution, I explained, “Orlan has suffered a crisis: a locust swarm ate the crops we would have sold to raise money for our landlords. I humbly request your assistance with finding a new career with a salary which will allow my family to continue paying property taxes. If you help me, I promise to triple my family’s monthly payments in return, for as long as it takes to regrow the barley fields.”

“How long does it take?”

“Barley requires about four months to transition from seed to harvest, so my career would need to last at least that amount of time, but I would be happy to continue the job afterwards if I earn plenty of money for tripled property payments.”

“I see.” Rubbing his bearded chin between his thumb and forefinger, Sir Armstrong considered my request. “Let’s say the Armstrong family agrees to arrange a position for you, and you triple your property payments. What do you plan to do with the rest of your salary?”

“I would fund my younger sister’s education,” I answered readily. “She is fifteen years old and the money would keep her enrolled in school.”

“Education?” Sir Armstrong scoffed. “What will she need school for when she’s going to be a farmer like the rest of your family? No one needs to know about obscure literature or complex mathematics to grow crops.”

Despite the anger surging in my belly at the insult, my voice remained level as I answered, “Literacy rates in Orlan are low compared to the kingdom’s other four communities. Continuing her education would benefit her success later in life.”

“Schools in Orlan are in terrible condition,” Sir Armstrong agreed grudgingly, but his dismissive wave indicated he had no desire to dedicate any resources to fix the aforementioned problem. “It’s better if the kids drop out anyway.”

“With all due respect, Sir Armstrong, I disagree -”

“I tire of your presence, Orlanian,” the man cut me off. Suppressing an annoyed huff, I fell silent as he commanded, “Sapnap, take your beggar friend outside while I consider his egregious request for a job.”

“Yes, Father.” Sapnap, who stood awkwardly by my side during the entire exchange, nudged my arm. Shadowed with concern, he murmured, “Let’s talk outside, Dream.”

Nodding, I followed my best friend. Although my words had been confident, my case strong, I could not avoid the pervasive thoughts accusing me of failure.

Sapnap closed the front door behind us as we exited the house onto the front porch. Muffled conversation emanated from inside the house as family members discussed my presence and request. They would say no, I realized, leaving my family unable to afford our property payments. We would face eviction, desolation, starvation. Involuntarily I quaked.

Sapnap noticed my distress, and placed a steadying hand upon my shoulder as we leaned upon the porch railing, overlooking the darkened hills and valley below. Crisp night air, although fresh, did nothing to calm me.

“Sapnap, you've offered me favors many times, and I usually refuse.” I admitted reluctantly, “But I’m asking you for one now.”

“Dream, you know I’m happy to help,” Sapnap agreed. “But it would be way easier for my family to just give you money and send you on your way.”

“I appreciate that, but money won’t last. I need a steady source of income, and I didn’t know anyone else to ask.”

Sapnap admitted, “A job request wasn’t what I was expecting, but it’s not impossible. What career did you have in mind?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” I admitted. “All I need is a high salary, at least until my family can cultivate another barley crop in four months’ time. Even if the job means I have to live away from them, I’ll do it and send my salary back.”

“Tripling your property taxes was a smart idea,” Sapnap complimented. He asked pensively, “You realize the highest-paying jobs right now, without requiring much prior employment experience, are castle staff memberships?”

“Makes sense,” I hummed my acknowledgment. “I could see myself working in the castle.”

“My parents are close to the king and queen. They’re political allies. If anyone could help you find employment at the castle, you found them.” Crossing his arms over his chest as he scanned the dark landscape beyond the Armstrong property, Sapnap considered, “You know, Dream… you might make a good guard.”

“A guard?” I blinked. I had anticipated my friend to suggest gardening or food preparation, not a security position. However, I was in no position to barter or question his judgment. “Are there any open spots?”

“Yes, actually,” Sapnap grinned. “Listen, I’ll talk with my parents and see what I can do. I know how much you need this.” The amiable smile left my friend’s face as he mentioned the stubborn man, “You might want to stay outside, on the lawn, in case my father gets mad.”

“No problem.” Nodding with compliance, I receded from the front door, descending the wooden porch steps as Sapnap returned inside. Carefully stepping over the set bear traps, my bare feet returned to the property’s long, soft grass.

Seating myself in the vegetation, I tucked my knees into my chest to wait. In the thirty minutes following my friend’s promise to convince his parents to help me, I heard more muffled conversation. Despite my gratitude for Sapnap’s willingness to advocate for me, my belly churned with uncertainty. Once the exhaustion from my journey began to drain my attention, the front door opened. Sir Armstrong stepped onto the wooden porch; we exchanged wary eye contact. The man appeared almost frightened of me; whatever I expected him to say, his next words were not it:

“Distance yourself from my girls, you hear?” Wedging one booted foot in the doorway while leaning his weight onto the other upon the porch, the man's face twisted into a menacing scowl as he pointed a threatening finger in my direction. “Those ladies are my property, not yours.”

Surprised, I held up both hands. Presenting my palms, I shook my head in an expression of innocence. A pang of sympathy hit me when, past the foreboding man, his adult daughters cast their gazes downwards in profound mortification. Finally, Sir Armstrong purposefully rechecked the set bear traps lining the front porch before scurrying inside and locking the door.

Neither of Sapnap’s sisters accepted me as their brother did, but they tolerated me: good enough for my mission. Dressed only in sewn-together rags, with plenty of freckled skin exposed along my arms, legs, and neck, I shivered in the dim light, preparing myself for a cold night's sleep beneath deep navy skies and twinkling stars.

Heaving a sigh to calm my frayed nerves, I lowered my hunched figure. As a gentle evening breeze rustled my clothing, ruffled my fluffy hair, and sent shivers up my spine, my figure flattened against the cool grass. Grass stems pricked my skin; fingers running through the lawn sensed tiny bite marks from where locusts chewed through tough plant fibers. On my back, I inhaled the musky scents of the earth below. A half moon glistened above, silently mourning the absence of its other half. I wondered what secrets lay on the lunar entity’s dark side.

A short time passed before a quiet snapping sound echoed in my ears. My attention perked, searching the area for danger; wild dogs, deer, and pigs were not uncommon in the detached suburban neighborhoods of Teja, especially in the spruce forest behind the Armstrong residence. However, a flicker of movement in my peripheral vision revealed the snapping did not come from an animal crunching through leaves, but rather from human fingers. Dangling from an open window, nearly invisible in the darkness, a female hand extended from the tiny, elevated window of a restroom.

Quietly, I lifted myself from the ground, eyes fixed on the hand as it slunk back into the window, before returning clutching a thin cloth blanket. Carefully skirting the barely visible bear traps hidden in the grass, I extended a hand to gently pluck the blanket from the woman's hand with a hushed, “Thank you.”

Instead of responding verbally, the hand slunk back into the window, before returning a third time to press a tightly wrapped cloth napkin into my waiting hand. I recognized the woman's hand as belonging to Sapnap’s older sister Alma. She could not speak given the risk of eavesdropping, but she concluded the gift-giving with a final snap of her fingers before silently closing the elevated restroom window once more.

Receding from the range of the bear traps again, I returned to the round spot of crushed grass which marked where I lay. Wrapping myself in the blanket, I layered the bulk around my head, neck, and shoulders. My feet would be numb tonight, but I would not suffer from hypothermia. Gingerly I unwrapped the cloth napkin, revealing a half-eaten turkey leg and discarded apple peels: leftovers from the family’s dinner. Although another mouth had touched the food before me, I consumed the entire contents of the napkin, save for bones, before tossing the cloth into the bushes across from the house.

Frigid and dreading the future, my mind raced nearly too fast for sleep to overcome it. However, physical exhaustion and mental turmoil gradually weakened me. Limpening, I allowed my eyelids to flutter closed as I succumbed to sleep.

At dawn, after refilling my water canteen from the property’s well, I received welcome news: during my rest upon the grassy slope of the hill behind Sapnap’s house, Sir Armstrong sent the family’s messenger to the royal castle, with a letter recommending me for a castle guard position. Gripping my wrists as he bounced with excitement and gleaming eyes, Sapnap assured the career was one of an Heir Guard.

“An Heir Guard?” I frowned. Wracking my brain for information on the castle’s guardian hierarchy did not produce any prior knowledge of the position. “What is that?”

“It’s awesome, that’s what it is!”

“I thought for sure your dad would say no!” I could barely believe the man’s apparent change of heart. “How did you convince him?”

Sapnap hesitated, as if he intended to keep his methods secret. Saving him from answering, Sapnap’s sisters Alma and Liliana dashed out the back door in classy white lace dresses.

“Father says you must wear a suit, Sapnap!” Alma huffed, gesturing to her brother’s night clothes and sandals. “We’re heading to the castle!”

“Already?” I croaked. They did not mean I would start the career today, did they? I was completely unprepared! Self-consciously, I spread my arms to peer down at my outfit, which was in a state of total disarray from sleeping in the yard.

“Oh, no, it’s not for that!” Sapnap’s younger sister Liliana explained with faint amusement. “After the locust swarm yesterday, the royal family sent an announcement across the kingdom: they’re giving an impromptu speech on the castle balcony to address the kingdom subjects in person.”

“To clarify,” Sapnap added. “The royal family won’t meet you personally yet. My father only sent the messenger a few hours ago. We still have to buy your outfit and armor.”

Initially, I breathed a sigh of relief, then tensed again as the three siblings turned in unity to dash back to the house. Sensing my uncertainty of whether they expected my accompaniment, Sapnap called over his shoulder, “Wait here. I’ll change into some manly clothes and then we’ll go together!”

“Okay!” Surely Sapnap’s parents would not allow their son to donate a suit to me, no matter if the fancy clothes could receive a washing afterwards. The dirt I carried as an Orlanian was not literal, but rather symbolic. Instead, I resigned to wait, turning to observe the kingdom’s spanning territory as a distraction.

Beneath the sun, gradually rising beyond the snowy Yukay Mountains lining the horizon, the entire valley was visible. In the bustling center of the Kingdom of Flor lay the clustered Lunden, Hassee, and Mingham communities. Along the kingdom’s outskirts stood Teja, whose hilly altitude sheltered its wealthy population from the commoners they irrationally feared and despised. Weaving through communities, glistening in the sunlight, was the Yuessay River, feeding the kingdom’s wildlife. Drawing a deep inhale, I allowed my gaze to drift further, heart blooming with pride as I watched golden sunlight bathe the faraway lands of Orlan, glowing among agricultural fields.

Footsteps and the opening of a front door distracted my ears; looking backwards, I straightened as the Armstrong family’s five members tidied their suits and dresses. Each member easily skirted the bear traps lining the brick path off their property. Except for Sapnap, who elected to walk beside me into town, the rest of the Armstrong family climbed aboard their family's carriage. As their horse-drawn vehicle departed onto the cobblestone road, Sir Armstrong waved out the open window to his service staff, who silently promised to guard the premises until the family’s return.

Sapnap practically bounced with excitement at our upcoming trip to the castle. Broad smiles lit our faces as childhood friends fell into step together, trailing the carriage's path into town. Marvelling at the distant castle in our sights, we prepared to witness the royal family's speech.

**Author's Note:**

> An enormous thank-you to my writing buddies MintyFrxsh, MitchNotFound, and Chaotomatic! Your support means the world to me! <3  
> All three of them are either on Wattpad only or cross-post on both Wattpad and AO3, but I want to give them credit anyway!


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